Pretty Little Stories
by prettyflour
Summary: One shots... tiny little fics that inspired no more than one chapter. My musings, my ramblings...Nothing more.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own much of anything...certainly not Twilight. I'm too poor to own anything besides my POS car. It gets me where I need to go and nothing more. This story... well, it was inspired by a Flash Fic Friday picture prompt via the Lemonade Stand. The 'Infinity and Beyond' prompt, Remember that one? Sadly, my little story ended up being too long to be considered, but heck, I decided to post it here anyway.

This is unbeta'ed because I'm impatient, so any and all mistakes are mine, and mine alone- grammar be damed. Darkward ahead- be warned.

**Pretty Little Prey**

Most of my kind would refer to her as a snack, a cute little appetizer.

Pretty little prey.

Dark eyes against fair skin, she was indeed attractive.

Her pupils dilated when our eyes met. Her heart beat faster. A sumptuous nectar ran through her veins that made me wildly hungry, made me _ache _for her.

I had to have her.

Approaching with a swagger and a smirk I planned to use my thrall to lure her in. To take her, fuck her, drink her.

I was convinced she would be the sweetest thing I would ever taste.

Her smile transformed me, her touch beguiled me, her quick wit made me laugh. Made _me_ laugh. I was not a joyous man; any smiles you spied on my lips were forced- a farce- a way to seduce my meals and nothing more.

This woman ripped me into pieces. My impulses were _screaming _for me to feed, warring with a sharp inner monologue reminding me to be easy with her- she was human after all. Her sheer fragility suddenly frightened me, light passes of my fingertips on her arm were all that I would allow myself.

While she touched me freely, generously. I reveled in it. I soaked it in and willed away my thirst.

I spoke to her, flirted subtly and wished her sweet dreams before she went home alone.

This girl had turned me into a gentleman. I hadn't been one of _those _in a _very_ long time.

I knew then that she was mine. I just..._knew._ There was something deep within my dead bones that came alive in her presence. She made me _feel,_ heat blooming on my skin wherever she touched me, her warmth lingering on my skin long after she left.

This new gentleman version of myself was patient and sweet. I never let her see my annoyance at her uncertainty- the unfounded insecurity she carried. I hid my pain and jealousy when she let herself be carried away in youthful curiosity and hormones- spending time with other men.

I wanted to kill them all. The gentleman _me _wouldn't allow it.

I wanted _her_ to choose _me_. I had never wanted anything more. The gentleman played his role, courted her, and gave her time. Time was something I could give in masses.

She must come to _me._ She would, in time.

Still, I watched through her window like a stalker. I looked on as she took another man into her bedroom.

He spoke to her with inconsequential words, his voice rough with desire. "I want you," he said, his hands grabbing at her, squeezing her tender flesh with a roughness that made me seethe with rage.

How fucking _dare he?_

The scene before me was more horrific than the most gruesome of murders, and I had seen my fair share. More than you can imagine.

But I understood that she needed this.

She needed to feel another's skin against hers to understand that _he _wasn't what she truly wanted.

_Not even close._

It was a miracle that I managed to stay still when their lips touched, their bodies collided.

It was my finest moment. My ultimate sacrifice to remain still and let _th__at_ happen, to let her test herself.

Etched into the skin of her ribs in black ink were the words, _to infinity._

What a joke.

On his ribs the words,_ and beyond_

He was her childhood friend, her highschool sweetheart. I understood her connection to the boy, she had grown up with him, loved him for a time...

That was over. It had been for years. She didn't love him anymore, not like she loved me. She just didn't realize it yet.

I planned his death a thousand times as his fingers dug into her skin. In every fantasy I tortured him slowly. I would gladly send him _beyond._

Then I would give her true infinity.

I clung to the hope that someday those impetuous words would be burned from her body by _my_ venom.

I burned all over again as I watched her tempt fate.

I was then reborn as she pulled away, guilt painting her features.

Her words so simple and so apt.

"This is wrong. **_We_** are wrong," she told him and she meant it.

She wasn't even wet for him.

I could smell her from where I stood, and my senses drew in her shame like victory.

She didn't cry a single tear for him. She pushed him off, pulled herself up and asked him to leave.

He did, although reluctantly and I followed, taking the greatest of pleasure as I came up from behind and crushed his skull.

I warned him not to touch what was mine.


	2. Letter to Edward

**Disclaimer: Twilight is owned by Stephanie Meyer. I just like to play with her characters.**

**Summary: **A letter to Edward Cullen written by Bella Swan on her deathbed. This is supposing that he never came back after leaving in New Moon. This is not beta'd so please forgive any errors. Thank you for reading.

* * *

On my eighteenth birthday I wished for eternal life but eighty nine years of living has taught me that you don't always get what you wish for.

I still remember you vividly. I remember you, Edward Cullen.

I remember you with a clarity that is haunting.

You are a secret that I carry. You are a tumultuous mixture and wonder and hurt. I try not to think about you and yet... I have to admit that I sometimes wondered about what might have been.

Yes, I was curious about what became of you. I thought about where you might be. I've spent many a night, my longing gaze on the stars, wondering if you were out there somewhere looking at the same sky.

I don't dwell. I stopped doing that when I realized you were never coming back, that you would keep your promise.

I hope _you're_ happy- I want that with a ferocity that makes my chest ache.

I've lived on this earth for almost ninety years and I spent the majority of those years happy.

I want you to know that I understand what you did. I understand that you thought you were doing what was best for me. For the most part I thank you and other times...I curse your twisted yet beautiful view on morality.

I want you to know that I have lived every moment to the fullest, and I did it mostly in part because I could not in good conscious squander your sacrifice.

You once spoke of soul mates, how I would be always be your one and only true love. I believe that down to the very fiber of my being.

I've made my life something worth living because I could not bear to disappoint you. And at the risk of sounding repetitive, I thank you for that.

I thank you for not giving into the selfish monster you thought yourself to be. My old age is a testament to the fact that you, Edward, are far more selfless than I.

I spent a year or two pining for you, hoping that my vampire would come back and take me into his world. I was determined to prove you wrong, hell bent on never forgetting, never letting my mind become of siv of inconsequential distractions.

Just so you know, I never did.

But...I did move on. I grew up and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would never betray me, and that meant that you would never come back. That I was not meant for your world.

I grew to accept that.

Acceptance is a funny thing. It does not change one's convictions or emotions. It does not steal ones dreams away.

I can not even imagine how many times I've dreamed of your eyes, your voice, your cool touch upon my skin. I covet those dreams because they are all I have of you.

I have not a single picture, not one paltry memento of your perfect face.

You have lived on in my memory stronger than any piece of paper every could. Your ghost is an anchor that grounded me- a life preserver that kept me afloat.

I studied hard, traveled far, found friends, laughter and love.

His love was different from yours, very much so. Not as intense, it took time, took me learning how to trust again. He put me first, _always_. He loved me unconditionally.

He did. He_ truly _did.

He brought me joy, gave me children. I have been so very lucky in this life.

And it wouldn't have amounted to anything if I hadn't had you. Your memory lingered, your phantom voice reminding me that every moment is precious.

I named my daughter Elizabeth, after your mother. I did this because of the strength she instilled in you, and by extension, the sheer will to live that you instilled in me. I only hope I have done right by her, and by you.

Oh Edward, You would love her, I _know_ you would.

In my more sentimental moments, I imagine you've seen her. Whether it be through your own eyes or perhaps in one of Alice's visions, but I do not dare dwell on that either.

I dream of it on occasion and I let that be enough.

Regardless of my happiness, your invisible presence remained, my love for you never completely dwindled.

I have to confess, here and now, as I lay dying, that I regret not having a life with you. I regret never having the _chance _or the_ choice_ to live forever by your side.

For every sublime moment that wove the very fabric of who I am...I would have given it all up for you.

I sincerely hope you understand what that means.

No love has ever trumped yours.

As strong as _his_ love for me was...I would have chosen you.

I don't regret loving him, or what what he brought me.

The years spent in his presence gave me everything I needed, gave me the few things you never could.

And now, there is only one thing left to say…

Thank you Edward. Thank you for putting me first, for saving my life, but most of all thank you for your love. Thank you for giving it to me, for trusting me to keep your secret.

I never told. I never spoke a word to anyone. I never betrayed you.

I never forgot you.

Never stopped loving you.

I hope this letter finds you well, if it finds you at all.

Yours, Bella


End file.
